


to hold infinity

by thisissirius



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26500609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisissirius/pseuds/thisissirius
Summary: Joe is beautiful; handsome in a way that still makes Nicky’s heart pound, even 900 years later.(rating for one r-rated word)
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 22
Kudos: 207
Collections: The Old Guard ▶ Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani / Nicky | Nicolo di Genova





	to hold infinity

**Author's Note:**

> written for a prompt on tumblr. first jump into the fandom. probably not the last.

_As much as I like watching you sleep._

Nicky doesn’t think he will ever tire of it.

Joe is beautiful; handsome in a way that still makes Nicky’s heart pound, even 900 years later. Eyes that Nicky can lose himself in for hours, days. Words that wash over the dark thoughts Nicky wonders if he’ll drown in someday.

A body that Nicky knows better than he knows his own.

If Nicky touches the inside of Joe’s knee, his breath will hitch. If he runs his lips, teeth, just behind Joe’s ear, Joe will melt into the mattress, couch, wherever he is. If Nicky scratches his fingers against the back of Joe’s scalp, his dick will fill, words falling from his lips in a myriad of languages that all mean the same thing.

It’s his shoulderblades that fascinate Nicky the most.

The way Joe is stretched out on the bed, Nicky thinks he understands why Joe draws and sketches as much as he does. Even modern cameras could not do this scene justice; the sheet is pooled around his thighs, showing off the length of his back, the curves of his ass.

Nicky runs a hand over Joe’s skin. It’s light enough that it won’t draw Joe from sleep just yet. An absence of scars, wounds. A dusting of hair, the creases of Joe’s thighs. Nicky avoids his ass, traces two fingers up Joe’s spine, chases the knobs of vertebrae and relishes that they’re all intact, that Joe is whole and beautiful and here.

Resting his other hand in Joe’s hair, Nicky’s fingers are light as they stroke through the curls. Joe shifts in sleep, huffs out a breath. It’s a wonder he is not awake, but Nicky knows, with a certainty that settles hard behind his breastbone, that it is because Joe trusts him. Joe knows that Nicky will never, could never, leave him unprotected.

 _Sono qui,_ Nicky thinks. _Io sarò sempre tuo._

Joe uses his words.

Nicky likes to touch. He finds strength from a hand to the shoulder. Affection from a hug. Love from the slide of fingers against his skin.

Perhaps this is why he likes to touch Joe. Not so much for Joe, but for himself. To affirm what he knows deep in his heart.

“I know you,” Joe says so often. “Even when you say nothing. I know you, Nicky.”

Nicky is often uncomfortable with attention, but never from Joe. There is something about being seen by him that thrills Nicky, that carries him through _all_ times, the good and the bad.

“Nicky,” Joe says, voice thick with sleep.

“Sono qui,” Nicky says, because the words are on the tip of his tongue.

Beneath his hands, Joe relaxes further into the mattress. Nicky feels it like a gift.

“I love you,” he whispers into the shell of Joe’s ear.

A shudder runs through Joe’s body and Nicky watches his lips curve up into a smile. “And I, you.”

Nicky’s fingers lightly skim Joe’s shoulder blade. Joe blows out a slow, careful breath. It is here that he took Joe’s life that first time, when they were Yusuf and Nicolò, blade sliding between bone and muscle.

Now, Joe is sensitive to touch, to _Nicky’s_ touch.

A moment that bound them together, still binds them, the two of them so intertwined that Nicky doesn’t think they will ever be parted.

(The better for them both).

“I would touch you,” Joe says.

Nicky meets his eyes, his own smile reflected back at him. “Later, perhaps.”

Joe’s words are exasperated, but his expression is affectionate, warm. “Nicky.”

“Nicky,” Nicky parrots back, shifting so that he can kiss Joe gently, fingers soft against Joe’s jaw. “Should I ever forget my own name-”

“Ah,” Joe says, sliding a leg against the backs of Nicky’s calves. “But you often do, my heart.”

Nicky snorts, dips in for another kiss as he lets Joe turn them, lets himself be pressed down into the mattress. Joe hovers above him; Nicky thinks he could die here now, for eternity, and it would be perfect.

(Perfect because Joe will follow, will _always_ follow.)

Lifting his hands, Nicky rests his hands on Joe’s shoulders. “Not tonight.”

It is a challenge and Joe takes it as such. There is amusement in the curve of his lips, adoration in his eyes, and love in the way he touches Nicky. The lightness of his fingers sends shivers up Nicky’s spine, nerve endings singing with the ways Joe knows him in return.

“There is time,” Joe promises.

Nicky does not protest; perhaps their deaths are more certain now than they were only days ago, but here, in this space where only he and Joe exist, there is an eternity.

**Author's Note:**

> i cry about my favourite fandoms on [tumblr](http://thisissirius.tumblr.com). please request more TOG fic ;)


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